


I Wanna Know

by almondjoyz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama, Minor Character Death, Post War, Post-War, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-18
Updated: 2009-02-18
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almondjoyz/pseuds/almondjoyz
Summary: In the last year, Harry's had to discover what it means to have the power of love on his side.Lyrics are taken from Foreigner's song "I Wanna Know What Love Is." I heard the song on the radio and it spawned this huge plot bunny that I am pleased to present to you. There are also some quotes taken fromHarry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, UK version, pages 578, 579 and 580. Also, props go out toForrest Gump, because you can never have too much Forrest Gump now can you?





	I Wanna Know

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."  
 _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_  
  
 _\- - - - - - - -_  
  
 _**I gotta take a little time**_  
 _ **A little time to think things over**_  
 _ **I better read between the lines**_  
 _ **In case I need it when I'm older**_  
  
Harry trudged up the stairs of number four Privet Drive with a heavy heart. In the last week, he'd seen his headmaster be killed, fought Death Eaters at his school, watched Dumbledore's burial, broken up with Ginny, and decided not to return to school for his final year at Hogwarts.  
  
It wasn't supposed to be like this. The locket Horcrux was supposed to be real. A piece of Voldemort should have been killed and Dumbledore should still be alive. Harry should be glowing with the remnants of a good-bye snog with Ginny. He should be counting down the days until he turned seventeen with anticipation rather than dreading them, knowing that every remaining bit of protection his mother died to give him would be gone.  
  
Why did this have to happen to him? Why was _he_ the one who had to do it? Merlin, he was only sixteen and men twice his age weren't strong enough to handle the task that he was given. In a fit of anger, he threw his rucksack against his desk, sending a picture frame tumbling to the floor and shattering. He didn't care what it was; nothing held any sort of meaning for him anymore. He was numb inside and that's how he liked it. If he couldn't feel, he couldn't care about anyone; if he didn't care about anyone, no one would ever have to die for him again.  
  
"Fuck it all to hell! I don't want to do this!" he shouted, the words echoing in the small room that suddenly felt as if it was getting smaller by the second. His hands went to his head and he screamed as he pulled at his hair, yanking bits of it from his scalp, not feeling the roots being ripped from his skin.  
  
"POTTER!" came Uncle Vernon's voice from the other side of the closed door. "Keep it down or so help me, I'll—"  
  
"You'll what?" Harry said as he spun around, the door flying open without being touched. "You'll starve me? You'll take away all my things?" He held out his arms in surrender, his body shaking, threatening to explode with pent-up magic.  
  
Vernon stood in the doorway, blocking out the corridor entirely, with his mouth hanging open.  
  
"Nothing to say? Not going to gloat? You won, Vernon. I have no one left to care about me and no school to go back to. Hit me. I dare you!"  
  
The seconds ticked by as Harry and Vernon stared each other down. Harry's eyes were dry and he wanted to blink, but Vernon turned away first. He slunk away from the door silently, something Harry'd never seen him do. Before he could look away, he noticed Dudley standing where his father had been.  
  
"I'm…I'm sorry, Harry." That was all Dudley said before silently heading into his bedroom, leaving the door open.  
  
He was speechless. First, Vernon didn’t take the bait that was so pleasantly given him and then Dudley exhibited human emotion. But he couldn't think about it now; those things would have to be filed somewhere else to be analyzed at a later date.  
  
Dumbledore shouldn't have taken him to the cave. He should have taken someone else, someone stronger, someone more capable of defending the old man. But the old bugger had to pick him – Harry Potter, an unqualified wizard with no extraordinary skill – to watch over him as he drank Merlin knew what. Harry had been there and he couldn't do enough to help the headmaster. He was Petrified under the cloak. He had to watch Draco taunt Dumbledore at wand point while the old man tried to talk reason. Then Snape had to arrive and send the world spinning on its end.  
  
Harry growled against the memories that replayed over and over in his mind like repeating wizard photographs.  
  
 _The cave…the lake…the potion…the Inferi…the brooms…the Tower… Draco…Snape… Dumbledore dead…the cave…the lake…the potion… the Inferi…the brooms…the Tower… Draco…Snape…Dumbledore dead…the cave…the lake…the potion…_  
  
Harry stumbled against his bed, his emotions raw and bubbling up to the surface, threatening to explode at any time. He curled up on the old, thin blanket with his hands laced around his lower legs and rocked back and forth.  
  
For the first time since watching Cedric Diggory die, Harry cried.  
  
He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but it must have been late; the street lights were on and the house was quiet. The growling of his stomach alerted him to the fact that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast that morning. He'd forgone his usual purchase from the trolley, preferring to sit quietly and watch the landscape pass, ignoring all attempts from his friends at conversation.  
  
A scratching from near the window alerted him. Turning, he saw Hedwig, locked up in her cage.  
  
"Sorry, Hedwig." He quickly unlocked the cage and opened the window. She took off in a flurry of feathers out into the night. With a pang, he thought that, like everyone else, Hedwig would leave him, too. He wouldn't be surprised if she never came back.  
  
That was the curse of Harry Potter, it seemed. He cared too much about his friends and they were ultimately hurt or killed because of him. His parents. Hermione. Ron. Mr. Weasley. Neville. Sirius. Dumbledore. Even Ginny.  
  
It was the right thing to break things off with her; he'd convinced himself of that. She deserved better and he had to make sure she did. In the crazy, mixed-up world of the last school year, she was the one true source of happiness he found. It appeared that he wasn't meant to be happy. Sure, he knew how to care about people, maybe love them, even. Where had that got him?  
  
Hunger pains made themselves known but he ignored their grumbling. Years of being starved at the hands of his relatives made him far too accustomed to growling. Until he left, he supposed he'd just have to learn to live with it. Besides, who was he to deny Mrs. Weasley the annual appraisal of his skeleton-like frame?  
  
Growling, Harry hit the side of his head. He had to stop thinking about things like that. If he did, Voldemort would know how much the Weasleys meant to him and they'd get hurt, which was the last thing he wanted to have happen. He vowed then and there to not feel anything until his job was finished. He just couldn't stomach the thought of losing anyone else in his life.  
  
Honestly, what was the point of love when people always got hurt?  
  
 __ _ **Now this mountain I must climb  
Feels like a world upon my shoulders**_  
  
He'd seen the newspapers and read the articles. He was a wanted man at seventeen. His friends, he assumed, were as well, although it was too early to tell if their cover stories were working or not.  
  
In the three weeks that he, Hermione, and Ron had been at Grimmauld Place, Harry'd done more than his share of thinking. In fact, he had a constant headache from it.  
  
He could tell that Ron missed his family. Even though he complained about not having a lot of things or that his possessions were "rubbish," Harry knew that Ron's family meant the world to him. In some ways, Harry was jealous: jealous of the quirky father who was satisfied in his humble position at the Ministry, jealous of an over-protective mother, jealous of brothers who teased yet would have Ron's back at the drop of a hat, and jealous of all the years spent with Ginny. Ron had everything Harry wanted.  
  
 _Funny_ , he thought. _Ron's always been jealous of me._  
  
It was true. Ron wanted recognition and enough money to do the things he wanted; Harry wished people would stop looking at him and the money was a poor substitute for parents and loved ones. Their friendship was an ironic one, yet it was as close as Harry could imagine brothers to be.  
  
He sighed as he stared out the window of the drawing room, noticing that the cloaked figures were still there, waiting for them to make a mistake. Part of him just wanted to let them kill him. It would all be over then and he wouldn't have to deal with a task he had no way of figuring out. He hated feeling like that.  
  
"Master?"  
  
Harry turned and saw Kreacher standing in the doorway, wringing his hands.  
  
"What is it? Is something wrong?" Harry asked, suddenly becoming anxious about the unheard news he thought the elf was about to bring.  
  
"Nothing, sir. Kreacher just thinks…Master is acting too much like his Mistress Black," the house-elf croaked.  
  
"What? I don't understand. I'm fine, Kreacher."  
  
"Kreacher sees his Master hiding away with his thoughts and remembers. Kreacher has seen what too much thinking can do. Kreacher doesn't want Master Harry Potter to be full of anger."  
  
Harry snorted. "Thanks for your concern, but I assure you, I'm fine."  
  
"Kreacher apologizes for overstepping," he answered softly, hitting himself over the head.  
  
Harry sprung from his spot. "Stop it, Kreacher! Please, it's okay! Thank you for worrying about me."  
  
"It is true. Kreacher worries that if Harry Potter lets himself think bad thoughts, he will stop caring about others."  
  
Harry was shocked. He never thought that Kreacher could feel, let alone say, those sorts of things.  
  
"You care about people, Master," Kreacher continued, "and because you do, that is why your mission is important. Mistress Black didn't care about others and that is why she went mad. Mistress locked herself up in this very room…" He began hitting his head again and collapsed onto the floor, repeatedly banging his head on the hardwood floor.  
  
"STOP!" Harry shouted, his voice echoing in the small space of the room while Kreacher stopped mid-bang, his head suspended halfway between the floor and the highest part of the arc he'd created in his movements. "Kreacher, I assure you I am not under any circumstances going to start acting like her. I know what I have to do. That's why we're going to the Ministry everyday."  
  
He crouched next to the shaking house-elf and patted his head, as if he were petting a dog. Really, there wasn't more he could think of to do.  
  
"I promise I'll finish it."  
  
Kreacher sniffed wetly and looked at Harry with moist eyes. "I know you will, Master. Kreacher has faith."  
  
At that, he turned around, leaving Harry on one knee.  
  
"At least one of us does," he muttered, wishing he was as confident as the house-elf.  
  
 _ **Through the clouds I see love shine  
It keeps me warm as life grows colder**_ __  
  
He hated the night-time, especially when he was the one on watch in the wee hours of the morning. Darkness covered everything and he felt more vulnerable to attack than at any other time. He wouldn't dare light his wand too brightly; they never knew if they were being followed and they couldn't risk it.  
  
It was times like this, when he was sure that Ron and Hermione were asleep, that he took out the Marauders' Map and lit the tip of his wand just enough to provide him with a bit of light. He'd done this a few times before, having got over the initial shame of it. He vowed he wouldn't let himself care, wouldn't let his heart rule him, or even let himself think about her. Somehow, he couldn't help it.  
  
In the sixth-years' girls' dormitory, he found her as he always did, still and hopefully sleeping better than he was. Her bed was in between Demelza Robbins's and Beatrice Wainwright's. Harry reached out a finger and placed it on the dot that represented her. Somehow, doing this, it made him feel connected to her, no matter how idiotic it was. It was a bloody map. How could that even do anything to ease the tightness in the area that surrounded his heart?  
  
Hermione saw him one night, looking at it. He'd fallen asleep at the table and his head was bent over, resting near her dot. When she woke him, he had tried to explain what he was doing.  
  
"I…well, I was curious."  
  
Hermione sat down on the chair next to his. "Harry, how many times have you done this?"  
  
"A fair few," he had admitted. "Just occurred to me one night. Don't mean anything by it. Mischief managed." He watched as the map disappeared, an ache forming in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"Not something one usually does for an ex-girlfriend." She stood and patted his hand, wearing a knowing smile.  
  
He had no answer for her and each time it was his turn for night watch, Hermione made a point of giving him a knowing and understanding look.  
  
As he watched Ginny move about the castle, the common room, or dormitory, memories of the way her lips felt against his as she kissed him on his birthday warmed him on the cold nights. She popped up in his dreams nearly every night, doing more than just kissing him, again making him thank all the gods in the universe that Ron was unskilled in Legilimency. It just wouldn't do much for their friendship for him to know that his best friend desired his sister in that way. Although realistically, Harry doubted that he'd live long enough to do anything about that.  
  
A shrill whistle awoke him and he turned around quickly, wand drawn. He finally breathed when he saw Ron standing before him.  
  
"My turn," Ron said softly. He stopped at the chair Harry occupied, noticing the map in front of Harry. "She okay?"  
  
Harry whipped his head around, his mouth open in surprise.  
  
"Hermione told me. Thanks for…you know, watching out for her." There was pain on Ron's face as he contemplated what his sister was going through at school without them.  
  
"I think so." Harry nodded. "She's usually sleeping." Harry blushed.  
  
"Yeah. Go get some sleep, Harry."  
  
Silently, he got up from his chair and headed toward the room with their bunks. Stopping just outside the flap of the room, he turned toward Ron.  
  
"Thanks for not harping on me about it."  
  
"Wouldn't do any good, anyway. You look too happy when she's around. Who am I to deny you that?"  
  
 _ **In my life there's been heartache and pain  
I don't know if I can face it again**_ __  
  
"Ron! RON!!" Hermione wailed in her sleep. "Come BACK!" Her voice started to sound hoarse. She thrashed on her bed and Harry saw tears streaming down her cheeks.  
  
Harry sat up, watching as she settled down and began mumbling incoherently. He knew she'd bottled up all her feelings about Ron leaving . Sure, he was angry and more than miffed with Ron, but he sort of understood why he did it. Ron was always emotional, and hearing that conversation by the river riled him up more than anything.  
  
Then there was that damned Horcrux hanging around his neck. There were times when Harry wore it that he became depressed or overly dramatic, but for the most part, he was able to overcome it. Ron, obviously, had been affected by the Horcrux more than he and Hermione. Harry wondered what could have caused Ron's breakdown; sometimes, Harry wondered if he was the one causing Ron pain.  
  
Over the next few days, conversation died away. It was as if Ron was the energy of the three of them. Without him, silence and despondency filtered into the monotonous life in the tent. They ate, read, cleaned, packed, unpacked, and moved. Very little was said, almost as if the life was sucked out of them, mostly out of Hermione.  
  
It was almost like Ron was dead. He could be, unfortunately. There was no way for them to know what was going on with him, where he was, or if he was even coming back. Eventually, Harry joined Hermione's depression. Life without Ron…he didn't even want to imagine it. But he was living it.  
  
On the fifth day without Ron, Harry broke down. The Horcrux was hanging from the bedpost and the raw emotions poured out of him.  
  
"You said you'd stick by me! You said no matter what! You're a fucking liar!" he shouted into the trees. "I need you here! _Hermione_ needs you!"  
  
His shouts sent birds flying out of the trees. Hot tears that had built over five days finally burst forth from the dam that he'd erected, falling down his cheeks and neck, leaving wet spots on the collar of his shirt.  
  
"How could you DO this to me? I care about you! And you left! Just like everyone else!"  
  
 _Everyone else…_  
  
No parents, no godfather, no mentor, and now, no best friend. Fate was a cruel bitch and really must have a grudge with him to keep taking people from him. If things kept going like this, there'd be no one left fighting for.  
  
"Hermione, I've been thinking about Godric's Hollow."  
  
 ** _Can't stop now, I've travelled so far  
To change this lonely life_** ****  
  
Harry found himself quite regularly at this spot overlooking the sea. The taste of salt from the water below was a constant for him, and after the first few days, the burn of it became less noticeable and merely part of the atmosphere.  
  
He sat with his knees bent and his arms wrapped around them, his chin resting on his bony knees. While Fleur had been doing her best to bulk him up, months with little to eat took more than a couple of days of rich, French food to change his body. He had, thankfully, got a haircut and he no longer resembled the puffy-faced, shaggy-haired stranger he saw in the mirror at Malfoy Manor.  
  
Yesterday, Harry noticed Hermione crying. It wasn't teary crying; it was quiet, dry sobbing. Her chest was heaving and her body shook. Merlin knows what went on up there in that room with Bellatrix, Lucius, and the rest of the insane lot, but whatever it was, Hermione usually hid it pretty well.  
  
Part of him didn't want to know what they did to her; hearing her screams made his blood curdle as did seeing the way Ron reacted. However, the deeply hidden perverse side of him wanted to know everything. That side of Harry wanted to know exactly what they did, what it felt like, and what could have been done to stop it. Hermione was strong but he would have gladly taken those curses if it meant she didn't have to suffer and Harry knew that Ron would have done the same if it had been possible.  
  
Ron.  
  
What would he do without her? There were feelings there, Harry knew, and whatever was between his best friends must be allowed to develop. They deserved it; that was essential, especially after what had transpired once the locket was destroyed. Ron very nearly went mad down in that dungeon listening to her screams. He'd always been the protector, jumping to someone's defence when they were threatened. Hermione was no different. Even though the two of them hadn't dated or anything yet, Harry knew that they were meant to be.  
  
Sometimes, however, his thoughts led him to think about what would happen if he didn't make it. Would Ron and Hermione drift apart without him? They were meant to be together, weren't they?  
  
Harry was brought out of his thoughts by the rustling of feet disturbing the grass. He turned hurriedly toward the source. It was Ron, walking with his hands in his pockets, signalling his discomfort with something. That was something that seven years of friendship had taught Harry: Ron was easy to read once you knew what he was about.  
  
"You okay, Harry?" Ron sat down on the grass and gazed out toward the sea.  
  
"A'right. You?"  
  
"Fine." Ron was never fine when he said he was fine.  
  
"Tell me. Something's on your mind," Harry urged.  
  
"Just thinkin', that's all." Ron paused. "The next step, you know, with the bank."  
  
"Is she ready?"  
  
"I think so." Ron sighed and Harry knew that Hermione was the real topic that Ron wanted to speak about. "She's getting a manicure of all things." A smile crept across Ron's face.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me!" Harry couldn't imagine Hermione sitting there while Fleur fussed over her. His imagination was conjuring ridiculous scenarios inside the cottage. Suddenly, his laughter died, and Harry looked Ron square in the face. "You have to promise me something, mate."  
  
Ron's smile faded and his expression turned blank. Harry paused for a moment, letting his thoughts solidify in the quiet of the afternoon, the twittering birds serving as the only witness of this conversation.  
  
"If something happens to me—"  
  
"Don't even think that, Harry!"  
  
Harry pushed a hand into Ron's chest to stop him.  
  
"You need to promise …that if something happens to me…" he paused, taking a deep breath and swallowing back the tightening in his throat. "Promise me that Hermione…that—that you'll take care of her. She's like a sister to me, Ron. I have to know that she'll be okay." Harry quickly turned away and swiped his hand across his face.  
  
"And what about _my_ sister?"  
  
Harry could hear the hitch in his voice and couldn't look at his friend. "I…I—"  
  
"Promise me you'll make it through for her. Promise me you'll take care of her." A hand went to Harry's shoulder.  
  
"I want to, Ron, honest I do." Harry swallowed and felt his eyes burn again.  
  
"Think about Ginny. Whatever happens, do it for her. Beat that bastard for her."  
  
 ** _I wanna know what love is  
I want you to show me  
I wanna feel what love is  
I know you can show me_** ****  
  
"Of course this is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that this is not real?"  
  
At Professor Dumbledore's words, things began spinning around in Harry's head. Images blurred in his mind's eye and he struggled to decipher them. As he focused on them, the visions became clearer.  
  
 _Professor McGonagall._  
  
She gave him his first broom. She let him and Ron off their second year following the car debacle. She looked after him.  
  
 _Hagrid._  
  
He gave him Hedwig and showed him the magical world. He came to his defense whenever there was trouble about. He always took care of him.  
  
 _Mrs. Weasley._  
  
She was always kind and gentle with him. She made him his first Christmas present and made him feel welcome in her home. She comforted him like no one else had before. He was her seventh son.  
  
 _Mr. Weasley._  
  
He asked Harry the purpose of a rubber duck. He went to the Ministry for the trial and would be dead if Harry hadn't had that vision. He always made him smile.  
  
 _George._  
  
He and Fred brought laughter to the world in a dark time. They made Harry forget the bad stuff going on around him. Was George going to be okay?.  
  
  
 _Neville._  
  
He was quietly strong and steady. He was a loyal friend and deserved more out of life than what he was given. He was a better man for knowing Neville.  
  
 _Luna._  
  
She was odd and delightful at the same time. She entertained him with her stories and reassured him of his sanity. She soothed the sorrow in his soul.  
  
 _Hermione._  
  
She kept him focused on what needed to be done. She was always there for him even when it was difficult for her to do so. She was his sister.  
  
 _Ron._  
  
He was his first real friend, the part of him that took eleven years to find. He always had his back and was the most trustworthy person he knew. He was his brother.  
  
 _Ginny._  
  
She was always there, even in the background. She challenged him and yet, comforted him with her mere presence. She was part of his soul and he loved her.  
  
The images swirled around again and then, without any warning, they stopped. It was time to go back, time to finish this and get on with actually living his life, no matter what happened. He owed them all that much.  
  
He was lying face down on the ground again. The smell of the Forest filled his nostrils….  
  
 _ **I'm gonna take a little time  
A little time to look around me**_  
  
Harry was grateful that there was a mass funeral for those who died at Hogwarts. The thought of attending more than twenty funerals was daunting and perhaps one of the most unpleasant things he could have imagined doing. He sat stony-faced at the front of the Great Hall, on the platform where the staff table usually sat. Being in such a prominent place made him extremely uncomfortable and he inwardly cursed himself for not taking more of a stand when the Ministry planners presented the seating arrangement and order of service. They were making him say something and he was absolutely confounded as to what was going to come out of his mouth. Hermione had written a few things down for him, but they didn't sound right; they sounded like her and the words were too…clinical for him. He really wanted to be sitting with the Weasley family, surrounded by those who cared about him as a person rather than a figure-head or something out of a fairy tale.  
  
Harry glanced around the large, cavernous room which was draped in black banners and bunting, reminiscent of the end of his fourth year, a memory that made him nauseous. At the far right of the Great Hall sat Andromeda Tonks. She looked forlorn and almost appeared drugged. Teddy was no where to be seen, which made Harry sad. He desperately wanted to see the boy and begin telling him all about his parents, something that was lacking in his own life and something that would never happen to Teddy. A few rows behind Andromeda were the remaining members of the Creevey family. Dennis, who'd grown like a weed in the last year, was supporting his mother on his shoulder while she cried. The Creevey patriarch sat stonefaced and tears silently crawled down his face, and Harry was grateful that the anti-Muggle protections had been lifted for the ceremony. Colin shouldn't have died; he shouldn't even have been at Hogwarts, yet felt the need to help in the fight. Colin had more character in his tiny body than men twice his size. His eyes wandered to the other side of the aisle and landed upon Lavender Brown's family. The injuries she'd suffered from Greyback became infected and she died just yesterday. Parvati Patil sat next to Mrs. Brown and together, they consoled each other. Near the back sat the three Malfoys. Lucius appeared shell-shocked and his normally pale appearance was almost waxen. His wife, the woman who had saved Harry's life in exchange for information about her son, was still regal in her appearance but the air of haughtiness was exchanged for one of humility. Draco looked terrible. Harry'd never seen him look so bad and he had to look away.  
  
It was the Weasleys that commanded his attention more than any other family. Bill had his arm around his mother and Charlie was on the other side of her, looking pale as her rubbed her back. Mr. Weasley held George's hand. George was a shell of himself. The day of the battle (was it only three days ago?) found George nearly catatonic as he grieved for his twin. He'd barely spoken to anyone and the silence was eerily out of place for the gregarious young man. There was no typical smile gracing his face, making him look even stranger to Harry. However, this morning, George began to prattle on about how Fred would have kicked him in the arse for behaving like a snivelling baby, and he vowed he'd not to let Fred's death ruin his life. He was still quiet, but George was slowly coming around with the help of his friends and family. Surprisingly, Percy sat on the other side of George; the elder brother having made an extraordinary effort to help George recover. He was going to move into the flat above the shop in Diagon Alley until George was fit enough to live on his own. That was good to see. Family should stick together.  
  
It was hard to look at Ron and Ginny. He sat with one arm around his sister and the other arm around Hermione. Sparkling tears trailed down Ginny's cheeks, and Harry longed to be next to her and wipe them away rather than sitting up front with half the wizarding world of Britain looking at him. She hadn't spoken to him much after the battle, and Harry understood; she'd lost a family member and good friends. She needed to grieve rather than be pressed about something as trivial as reuniting with her old boyfriend. He'd give her all the time in the world, if that's what she needed.  
  
Harry smiled briefly as his eyes landed on Hermione. Since their brief kiss outside the Room of Requirement, they were inseparable. They'd even taken a nap together, albeit innocent, and much to Mrs. Weasley's chagrin. She'd awakened them and reminded them that they had their own beds to sleep in but didn't seem too upset when they went right back to sleep where they were.  
  
Applause broke through Harry's thoughts and he noticed that Kingsley Shacklebolt was indicating it was time for him to speak. His stomach plummeted to the bottom of his body and he reluctantly got up. He tried not to pay attention to the hundreds of eyes focused on him, especially a certain pair of dark brown ones that accompanied a mass of Weasley red hair. In the few seconds it took Harry to walk to the lectern, the words he planned to say suddenly came to him. He knew some might not appreciate what he was going to say and others would want more from him. But it needed to be said.  
  
Once the Great Hall was quiet, he cleared his throat.  
  
"I'm not a hero," he began. "The people we mourn today are the true heroes. They gave up their lives for all of us. They could have stayed at home, but they didn't. Their choice was clear to only them.  
  
"Please don't give me titles of praise. I don't deserve them. It was only chance and luck that helped me do the things I did. Anyone of you would have done the same." Harry paused for a deep breath. "The one thing I really want to do right now, in this setting, is to grieve for my own parents. I never had that chance. But what their deaths taught me is that those you love never truly leave us. They live on in me and in those of you who knew them.  
  
"The same is true for everyone we honoured here today. Don't forget the cause they died for. Don’t let prejudice and hatred gain hold of us again. Keep the lessons we learned in the past few years at the front of your minds so that the world we leave behind is better than the one we were given. Thank you."  
  
Harry bowed his head, stepped down onto the floor of the Great Hall, and made his way down the centre aisle. Hundreds of unseen faces turned to watch him leave and all he wanted was to be alone. Once he was free of the castle walls, he ran across the grounds, stopping at the shore of the Black Lake, throwing himself onto the grass and sand. He didn't care that he got his robes dirty or that he'd left hundreds of people inside, wanting more. It was his time to be alone. Casting a quick concealment charm, he looked out onto the smooth surface of the water and collected his thoughts.  
  
"Thanks, Mum and Dad, for showing me the way, for helping me learn what it means to love." Tears came to his eyes and he didn't bother wiping them away. "I always thought Dumbledore was daft for saying that love was the key to all this, but he was right. Your love is what got me this far and it'll keep me going for the rest of my life." His words faded away as he just thought of things he longed to say to them.  
  
It was dark when he returned to the castle, and as he sat down to eat with the Weasleys, Harry Potter was finally at peace.  
  
 _ **I've got nowhere left to hide  
It looks like love has finally found me**_ __  
  
He couldn't say no to them when they asked him to move into The Burrow. They'd become more than friends; they were the closest thing to family he had left.  
  
He now occupied what used to be Bill and Charlie's old room, which happened to be on the same floor as Ginny. He shook his head at the irony he had found himself in. He'd left her here a year ago, telling himself that he had to stay away from her to protect her. Now, he was living in the same house, on the same floor, sharing a _wall_ with her. It drove him bonkers most nights.  
  
They hadn't had much time alone to talk about things, but on most days, Ginny didn't appear that she wanted to talk to anyone. She was close to Fred and George, and it hit her almost as bad as it affected George. So he'd decided to give her space.  
  
Harry looked out the window and sighed. Despite being in this house, with all these people, he was extremely lonely. Yes, Ron was there, but sometimes, talking to his best mate about certain things just didn't work out. All Harry wanted was someone to talk to about all the crap he'd bottled up over the past few years.  
  
Almost as if his wish had been granted, a knock came from the door.  
  
"Come in," Harry answered, wondering who it was. Ron would have burst right in; Ginny would have opened the door shyly, and Mrs. Weasley would have said, 'Harry, dear?'  
  
It was Mr. Weasley.  
  
"Harry, may I speak with you?" The man wore a concerned look on his face and wrung his hands together nervously.  
  
"Yeah, sure. What's the matter?" He watched Mr. Weasley pull a chair from the desk and straddle it backwards.  
  
"Nothing, Harry, honestly. It's just that…I'm worried about you, my boy."  
  
"I'm…fine, sir."  
  
Mr. Weasley chuckled. "You don't have to call me ‘sir.’ I'm neither your teacher nor your father. I'm your friend. You just look so lonely."  
  
Harry shifted into a sitting position on his bed, crossing his legs under him,  
  
"In a way, I am."  
  
"Why?" New wrinkles appeared on his forehead.  
  
"I just want someone to talk to." Up until then, Harry hadn't realized how distant he'd felt from everyone since Fred's funeral. He'd erected yet another wall around himself and now he didn't know how to tear it down. Perhaps Arthur's appearance here in his room was something more than coincidence.  
  
"Then talk to me, Harry. Tell me what you've buried so deep inside yourself."  
  
Harry took a deep breath and scooted to the edge of the bed.  
  
"The Dursleys…they…they made me live under the stairs." He paused when Mr. Weasley's jaw dropped. "From the time I was four until I got my Hogwarts supplies, they locked me in there with nothing more than a mattress, an old pillow, a thin blanket, and a bare light bulb. They locked me in there when they thought I misbehaved but it was really my cousin. They hid me when company came over and kept me inside, saying that I was disturbed and a delinquent.  
  
"They lied to me about my parents, what I was, and everything about me." He let out a breath and closed his eyes, which began to burn with the build up of tears waiting to fall. "My cousin and his friends bullied me. I had absolutely no friends because Dudley made sure to beat them up if it looked as if I were making a friend. I ran home from school every day only to be shoved inside that cupboard. I've never ridden a bike, been on rollerblades, or watched anything I picked out to watch on TV.  
  
"When I wasn't hidden away, I was forced to do all the chores around the house while my fat-arsed cousin got everything he ever wanted. I was threatened with beatings at least ten times a day."  
  
He couldn't stop. It all came out. He'd never told anyone, not even Ron and Hermione, about any of this. As he poured out his deepest, darkest secrets, Mr. Weasley remained quiet, his head shaking slightly and silent tears streamed out of his eyes and made their way down his cheeks. Harry felt nothing as he looked at Ron's father; the unburdening of his soul had made him numb. Deep down, he knew that once he stopped, the floodgates would open and there would be no turning back.  
  
"When…when Cedric was killed, Mrs. Weasley gave me the first hug I can remember from a mother."  
  
And that was it. There was no more for him to say. Just like he figured, the tears started. Slowly at first, and then with a force rivalling a tsunami, Harry wept openly in front of Arthur Weasley. He didn't see the man cross the space between them. When he sat on the bed, all Harry noticed was the dip of the mattress. Fatherly arms enfolded him and Harry sank into them.  
  
He didn't know how long they sat there but finally, the tears abated, and he pulled away from Mr. Weasley, carefully wiping away the remaining tears off his cheeks and chin and turning away, embarrassed, yet relieved, at his emotional outburst. The air in the room felt lighter somehow, almost as if the house sensed the newfound lightness inside Harry's body; somehow, he felt…good.  
  
"Harry," Mr. Weasley said softly, making Harry turn his head. "They were not your family. Family doesn't do that to their own." He reached inside his pocket, withdrawing a handkerchief, and blew his nose. When he finished, the hanky disappeared. "Don't give them another thought. If you didn't know it before, I'm telling you now. You may not be my son physically, but you are a son of my heart, Harry. I love you."  
  
Harry launched himself at the man, this time, eager to receive the love and affection he'd so long been denied.  
  
 _ **I wanna know what love is  
I want you to show me  
I wanna feel what love is  
I know you can show me**_ __  
  
June blossomed into a beautiful month. Trees were clothed in bright, green leaves and flowers were in bloom all around The Burrow. Harry couldn't remember seeing the Weasley homestead looking so full of life and it was rare to not see him with a smile. As he walked down the path to the house, he breathed deeply, taking in the sweet-smelling air, noting the hint of a rainstorm coming as he inhaled.  
  
The front door opened and he smiled at the figure coming out to greet him.  
  
"Harry!" Ginny called.  
  
She'd come out of her self-imposed silence after returning home recently and the two of them had built back their friendship. They'd talk and laugh with each other at Ron's expense and gag as he and Hermione made goo-goo eyes at each other. However, Harry had a difficult time getting her alone so they could talk. Ginny, he noticed, wanted to talk to him, too; he could see it in her eyes. His Auror training took him away for days at a time, and when he was at the house, he was either sleeping or being coddled by her mother.  
  
He closed the distance between them quickly and found himself wrapped up in her embrace. It was heavenly.  
  
"How've you been?" she asked against his neck, her breath sending a shiver along his back. When she pulled away, she smiled brightly at him.  
  
"Good. Hungry," he answered with a cheeky grin.  
  
"Well, Mum left a load of food for you."  
  
"Where is she? Where's everyone?" He followed her into the house and felt odd in the quiet that welcomed him. He set his bag down at the foot of the stairs and followed Ginny's swishing hair into the kitchen, almost detecting the familiar scent he associated with her. She must have washed it recently.  
  
"At George and Percy's. Seems Percy has a girlfriend." She turned around and cocked her head to the side. "We're all alone."  
  
Harry swallowed. "Seems so," he said and sat down in a chair, watching her flutter about the kitchen, retrieving food for him. Suddenly, he felt out of place and got up, walking over to the worktop. "Let me help." He reached for the shepherd's pie at the same time she did and brushed her hand with his. Fighting the instinct to pull away, he grasped her hand.  
  
"Harry." She bit her lower lip to steady the trembling.  
  
"Supper can wait. I need to talk to you." His voice was steadier than he'd imagined it would be in this situation.  
  
"Er…okay," she muttered and then swallowed and licked her lips.  
  
The dart of her tongue sent his heartbeat into a tailspin and he couldn't remember what he was going to say.  
  
"I…I…well, yeah…" he stammered.  
  
She laughed heartily and squeezed his hand. "Go ahead. You can tell me anything."  
  
There, in the middle of the Weasley kitchen, he decided to tell her how he felt about her.  
  
"I'm sorry Fred died. I wish I could have done something."  
  
Of course, it was going to be in a roundabout fashion, but he'd get there, he told himself.  
  
"But I'm glad you're…okay. That's the only thing I've ever wanted. For you to be—"  
  
"Don't say it!"  
  
"—alive." He placed a hand on her cheek and noticed his breathing speed up. "I can't imagine what I'd have become if you were—"  
  
"But I'm not. You were there. You saw Mum." Her eyes never left his and he could feel his resolve returning.  
  
"I was scared out of my gourd, Gin. If I hadn't put up that Shield…"  
  
"Mum was about to, you noble arse. She told me." Her eyes softened as his eyebrows rose. "She didn't tell you, did she?" Harry shook his head. "I never want to get on the wrong side of her wand."  
  
Harry chuckled. "Don't blame you." He took a deep breath. "And I do have to admit something, too."  
  
"What? Were there numerous Veelas out there to attack you?" Her eyebrow rose attractively, making him snort.  
  
"Hardly. But I want you to know that…well, I…damnit!" He ran his hands through his hair and sat back down on the chair. He felt her hand on his back, rubbing his shirt in circles.  
  
"Calm down and tell me."  
  
He lifted up his face and saw her kneeling before him, taking away his fear with one simple look.  
  
"If I knew what they were doing to you at school—"  
  
"Harry!" she said with a little half-smile. "You know damned well I can take care of myself with or without you."  
  
Harry let out the breath he was holding. "But I can't really help myself when I'm around you." He stood up and lifted her to her feet, gently kissing her,  
  
She gasped in surprise and wiggled in his embrace as he struggled to steady her. Their mouths moved over each others’ desperately. Harry wanted to deepen the kiss but she turned her face away from him and stepped backwards.  
  
"If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask," she teased. "Just tell me what you want to say and get it over with. It can't be too bad if you kissed me like that." She winked, causing him to blush.  
  
"All I wanted to do was tell you that I really, really, really want to get back together and I think that I might love you, even. That's why I didn't want anything to happen to you. There aren't many people I've loved in my life but you're at the top of the list."He paused, taking in her shocked expression. "I learned this last year what it means to be loved by friends and family, and what it takes to love them in return. I watched you on the map because you taught me what it's like to love someone more than my own life. I love you so damned much that it was you who I thought about last before dying, and you were the last one I thought of before waking up from the dead. If you don't—"  
  
Harry never finished his thought as she launched herself at him and kissed him. He sighed as her lips opened to him and his tongue delved deep inside her mouth. Her scent, her taste, and the feel of her under his hands and his lips overwhelmed him. He sighed into her mouth. The kiss continued with moans from deep within their throats and hands wandering places they hadn't gone in months.  
  
He may not be the smartest of men, but he knew what love was.  
  



End file.
